


and the world will know

by Abarero



Series: Going for Gold [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Series, Yuuri deserves all the golds sorry I don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 14:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11625645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abarero/pseuds/Abarero
Summary: But there was one type of gold Yuuri yearned for the most. It was a very specific color and not just any old gold would ever come close to comparing. The one gold Yuuri truly desired more than anything.Worlds, against Victor Nikiforov.It was the one he was fighting for today.





	and the world will know

**Author's Note:**

> Started this for the Gold theme at YuuriWeek but didn't finish it on time, so I'm putting it up under the "On Ice" theme. Thanks to Accioharo @ tumblr for helping me rework Yuuri's FS jump layout for maximum points. Blame canon for the weirdly high short program scores.

A gold medal came in many colors.

 

The one at Japanese Nationals? That was the expected one.

 

Another at Four Continents? That was a hard-earned surprise.

 

But there was one type of gold Yuuri yearned for the most. It was a very specific color and not just any old gold would ever come close to comparing. The one gold Yuuri truly desired more than anything.

 

Worlds, against Victor Nikiforov.

 

It was the one he was fighting for today.

 

He'd shattered the Short Program World Record, heading into the Free Skate with the smallest fraction of a lead. Plenty of others were in easy striking distance, and Yuuri knew he'd have to go out there and skate a thousand times harder than had had at the GPF to secure it.

 

“Victor?”

 

It was still strange for Victor to be with him by the boards, no longer in his suit and coat, but attired in his own free skate costume.

 

“What is it, Yuuri?”

 

He took a deep breath and leveled his coach, and now fellow competitor, with a look.

 

“Try and catch me.”

 

Victor grinned, clutching Yuuri's hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the ring that shone from his finger.

 

“Do you think you've got what it takes?”

 

Yuuri nodded, firm and assured. He'd never felt like his before a skate before, his blood a fiery lava as it coursed in his veins, a veritable explosion of excitement ready to burst. The thrill of facing off against Victor no longer terrified him, instead it lit in him a competitive drive Yuuri had once thought extinguished and gone. He'd spent his whole life trying to get here, to this moment, and he was ready to set off the most beautiful fireworks the skating world had ever seen.

 

“I promised you at least five,” Yuuri replied with a grin. “Might as well get started.”

 

Victor brightened at that, reaching out as best as he could over the boards to gather Yuuri into a hug. He was so incredibly proud of Yuuri, proud of everything that had brought them here together, and Yuuri was not about to let him down.

 

“Is it bad luck to kiss your competitor?” Victor asked with a laugh as they pulled out of the hug.

 

He looked so positively happy, that Yuuri couldn’t help but feel caught up in it as well. So, before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and pecked a quick kiss to Victor’s lips.

 

“Looks like we’ll find out,” he said coyly as he skated to his starting position.

 

No one, not even Victor, was going to know what hit them.

 

The strands of the music begin and Yuuri moves in time, each and every moment polished. So many people have given him help to get here and he won’t let any of them down.

 

He lets Minako’s instructions flow down his arms and to his fingertips, ever graceful and elegant; their hours of extra rehearsal before he left Japan paying off in each motion flowing even more seamlessly to the next.

 

Yuuri breathes in, his blades curving against the ice, as he backs into his first jump. Quad toe, triple toe- he lands it flawlessly. The fireworks have begun.

 

A flying sit spin, and he knows it’s a perfect level four. Then he’s off again, floating over the ice like he’s flying.

 

He thinks of those hours spent with Yurio, going over and over the quad salchow until he could land it. Yuuri eases into it, landing with a crisp hiss on the ice.

 

This program, every little piece of it, is like a single spark that someone had lit in him. It’s about time he shows them what all their love can accomplish.

 

Change foot camel spin then off again, leaping next into his triple flip.

 

It’s a flurry of fireworks, small colorful bursts as he spins, large flashy booms as he jumps.

 

But here’s where he knows it counts most, where he’s got to make up for what his jumps cannot. He flows into his choreographic sequence, ready to shine the brightest he’s ever shone.

 

Spread eagle, ina bauer- he pours every bit of love he’s ever been given into them, making them shine as brightly- _no brighter-_ than that silly quad lutz.

 

Now the triple axel, filled with his own love, and he sets it off with a bang, his entrance into the jump the highest he thinks he’s ever managed.

 

The crowd is roaring and he knows the show’s only just begun.

 

Quad toeloop, then next into his combination- triple axel, double loop, triple salchow. Now the triple lutz, triple loop.

 

It’s time for the grand finale. He sets off every little spark and flame in his veins, launching into a step sequence so crisp and precise, he knows, _knows_ that Victor himself couldn’t measure up to it.

 

Then there’s one jump left. The most important jump he’s ever had, because it’s _theirs_ and there will never be anything more important to Yuuri than that. It’s the final piece, the most beautiful and flashy of all the fireworks put together.

 

His thumb brushes quick over his ring as he backs into the jump, one last little reminder that this, _this_ surprise, is all for Victor and only him. He throws an arm above his head, arched perfectly, as he executes a magnificent quad flip.

 

Victor Nikiforov might favor the quad flip, but he’s _never_ jumped it like this.

 

His blade finds the ice again, and he knows, _knows_ as he goes into his final spin combination, that Victor cannot catch up to him now.

 

Yuuri moves into his final pose, hand over his heart, other reaching out for the one who’s always there. His ring catches the light and Yuuri swears he sees a flicker in return from the one Victor holds over his mouth in shock.

 

It’s a love story, his free skate. A story of how he fell in love, with a sport, with an idol, and with Victor himself. And he feels he could convey it no better than this.

 

Yuuri felt the tears on his cheeks before he even realized they’d fallen; breaths coming hard and sharp as the wave of euphoria crashed over him. He finished his bows as the ice filled with flowers and stuffed toys, then turned once more to where Victor waited for him.

 

He smiled, heart content, knowing he’s done what he came to do.

 

“How was that?” he asked breathlessly.

 

Victor pulled him into his arms and swung him around, only settling him back on the ground after he pressed a flurry of kisses to his face.

 

“Perfect,” Victor replied, his smile filled with all the admiration and love Yuuri thought he’d never be worthy of.

 

But he _was_ worthy. He truly was. And he has just proven it to the entire world.

 

Yuuri felt like he was in a haze as Victor walked with him over to the kiss and cry. It was always like this, the moment he stepped off the ice, as if his brain finally switched back over and the anxiety seeped in as he waited for his score.

 

No matter how fast or slow, it always seemed like ages went past as he waited.

 

But Victor’s arm, warm around his back and snug at his waist, was a welcome distraction from the derailment his brain was working away on. J.J. still had to skate, so did Victor. Maybe he didn’t do enough…

 

“Yuuri,” Victor murmured, snapping him out of it.

 

Yuuri slowly unclenched his fist, letting Victor reach over and take that hand before he could clench it again.

 

“The free skate score for Yuuri Katsuki of Japan.”

 

He held his breath.

 

“227.85, bringing his total score to 347.88. This puts him in first place, breaking his former free skate world record and the total score record formerly held by his coach, Victor Nikiforov.”

 

Yuuri turned, eyes wide, looking to Victor to confirm if what he heard was correct. And for a brief moment, so quick he almost misses it, Yuuri saw the conflict between coach and competitor in Victor’s expression.

 

He’s elated, but he also knows he has work to do if he wants to catch him.

 

“Victor?”

 

The coach, and perhaps truly Victor himself, won out.

 

“I’m...well,” he pulled Yuuri into a hug, his hand coming up to cradle the back of his head in the gentlest of touches. “I’m _so_ proud of you, Yuuri.”

 

And Yuuri thought, though he couldn’t pull away to see for certain, that Victor might be crying. Which was perfectly okay, for Yuuri realized that tears of his own were trailing down his cheeks.

 

“Really?” Yuuri asked, his mind still not believing it.

 

Victor pulled back, cheeks damp and his smile beautiful and bright. “The proudest,” he asserted, his expression now completely enveloped in love and affection.

 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Yuuri replied, hoping that Victor realized that this was not just Yuuri’s accomplishment, but his as well.

 

He blinked, looking surprised.

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but reach up to tap him on the nose. “I couldn’t have done it without the best coach I’ve ever had.”

 

Victor hugged him again, a choked laugh barely making it past his lips. “Yuuri.”

 

“ _Victor,_ ” he replied, giving him a squeeze.

 

They lingered a few moments more, before Yuuri finally took a breath and pulled back.  

 

“You need to get ready.”

 

Victor nodded. “You’ve issued quite the challenge, I’ll have you know.”

 

Yuuri smiled, soft and assured. “Try and catch me, Victor.”

 

He pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead before standing up, reaching down to pull Yuuri up beside him.

 

“I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

 

“Good,” Yuuri replied. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

 

* * *

 

Victor had been sequestered off by Yakov, who much to Victor’s dismay insisted that he couldn’t focus and be hanging all over the skater he needed to beat. This left Yuuri to linger in the mixed zone, nerves too raw and on edge to go take a seat in the small lounge they’d prepared for the final group of skaters.

 

J.J.’s program was about a third into it, Yuuri mentally tallying points and trying to gauge where his score would match up, when a sharp voice cut in.

 

“You’d better beat him.”

 

Yuuri turned, blinking over at Yuri Plisetsky.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, you’d better beat him.”

 

Yuuri glanced back out at J.J. who was so far, skating a flawless program.

 

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” Yuuri asked finally, unsure what the younger skater was trying to get from him.

 

Yuri huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the arena wall.

 

“You’d better beat _both_ of them, Katsudon. If I can’t then…”

 

Yuuri knew he’d been struggling ever since he lost to Victor at Russian Nationals, had seen him putting himself through grueling practices and trying to push himself harder and harder. He’d crashed and burned at Europeans after trying to land a quad lutz in both programs, only managing to bruise himself up and earn more lecturing from Yakov. Apparently, although Yuuri suspected Yakov had told him not to, he’d tried it again tonight and popped the jump into a single.

 

“You still have a chance,” Yuuri said politely.

 

Yuri scoffed. “Yeah if they both screw up spectacularly, but then like I’d be happy about it.”

 

Yuuri understood that, his own mind weighing the pros and cons of J.J. or Victor bombing their free skate. It was more cons than anything, a win like that wouldn’t be a win.

 

“But you would’ve beat me, even if I didn’t mess up,” Yuri said so quietly Yuuri’s almost certain he’d misheard.

 

He stared.

 

“I’m not repeating that. _Ever_ ,” he snapped, glancing away.

 

Yuuri knew that. He’d purposely reworked his jump layout to try and beat what he knew the others could bring on their best nights.

 

He offered a smile. “I heard nothing.”

 

“Good.”

 

J.J.’s program came to an end and Yuri stood up from where he’d been leaning, his eyes on the ice.

 

“It’s down to Victor now,” he muttered, his eyes piercingly sharp as they shifted back to Yuuri. “Knock him off the top pedestal for me, okay?”

 

He retreated from the area before Yuuri could reply, J.J.’s scores being read off and coming up quite short. Yuuri looked out to where Victor stood at the boards with Yakov.

 

Silver or Gold, that’s what it was down to.

 

Unlike watching J.J., Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to turn such a critical eye to Victor’s program. It’s years and years of habit, perhaps, but watching Victor skate brought Yuuri such a calm and happy feeling, he couldn’t do anything but let himself be swept away into the music and choreography.

 

It didn’t hurt that, much to Yuuri’s embarrassment, Victor had made it expressly known that this program was for him. For as much as _Yuuri on Ice_ was Yuuri’s love, this was Victor’s, laid bare for the world to see.

 

He was a different skater, Yuuri thought, than he was before. Something about it was more... _something_ , an emotion he just couldn’t find a name for. It’s not that his previous programs lacked emotion, but something about his two this year just seem more.. _alive_ than before.

 

Yuuri watched as his skates fluttered and flurried across the ice, always so effortless, so polished and precise.

 

Most of his jumps came earlier than Yuuri’s, all of them landed clean and crisp. But there’s one change Victor had made: moving the quad flip to the second part of the program. It’s nowhere near as late as Yuuri’s, but he knew how Victor fought to make sure he could still land it clean despite how tired he was.

 

So by the time it came, Yuuri’s edged up to the boards, his hands clutched tight against them. Yuuri could see as he backed into it that he was tired; minute little changes in his posture that only years of obsessively watching him skate would make known.

 

_Come on Victor, you can do it._

 

He knew that irony of wishing it, knowing that it would only make his chance at gold even slimmer.

 

But Yuuri didn’t want to beat Victor on a bad day. He wanted to beat him at his very best.

 

Victor made the rotations, landing back on the ice and sweeping out of it with ease. Yuuri felt his heart sing. Victor did it, for him. It made his heart swell with love and pride.

 

As the program drew to a close, Yuuri could feel the anticipation prickling at his mind.

 

This was it. The final moments before it was decided.

 

He found his legs moving before he could stop them, headed right for the kiss and cry as Victor exited the ice. Yakov shot him a look, but whatever hesitance Yuuri had about the oddity of rushing to Victor was quashed the moment Victor caught his eyes.

 

“Yuuri, how’d I do?” he asked, smiling and arms wide and waiting.

 

Yuuri shot an apologetic glance towards Yakov before intruding into the kiss and cry. Victor didn’t seem to mind one bit, practically leaping on Yuuri once he was within arms reach.

 

“It was beautiful Victor,” Yuuri managed after he’d settled on the seat beside him. “It’s the most beautiful you’ve ever skated.”

 

Victor’s smile brightened. “Then no matter what happens, I’m happy.”

 

Yuuri knew the skepticism must have flickered on his face, because Victor saw it and he pressed his hands firm to Yuuri’s shoulders immediately.

 

“Yuuri,” he said, voice quiet, “I want you to know, I skated the hardest I’ve ever skated tonight, okay?”

 

Yuuri nodded. He’d thought as much, but hearing it eased some of the tension that was building in his mind.

 

“I know,” he replied, smiling. It was an important reassurance, one that he returned immediately. “So did I. We both gave it our best.”

 

Victor slid his hands down from Yuuri’s shoulders, settling with clasping onto one of Yuuri’s hands with his trembling two. It hit Yuuri then, that Victor was honestly on edge. Something that he’d not been a year ago, when he’d seemed rather blase about waiting for his inevitable winning score.

 

“The free skate score for Victor Nikiforov of Russia.”

 

Yuuri clutched Victor’s hand tighter.

 

“225.07, bringing his total score to 344.90. This puts him in second place and earns him a personal best in both free skate and total score.”

 

It’s as if the whole world had fallen silent, Yuuri unable to hear a single thing but the pounding of his own heart. He froze, his mind trying and failing to process the information it had just received. He couldn’t...he didn’t…

 

“Yuuri, you’ve won!” Victor’s voice- elated, brimming with joy- cut into Yuuri’s mind. He was barely able to turn towards its source before he’d been tackled off the short bench and a fervent kiss had been pressed to his lips.

 

He pulled back, looking at Victor, trying to make sure he’d gotten it right.

 

“I guess you’ll be my gold medal tonight, hmm?”

 

Tears welled up and he’s crying and laughing and his head is spinning. He beat Victor. He _beat_ Victor.

 

“Aren’t you upset?” he managed, still at a loss when it came to processing all that was happening.

 

Victor shook his head. “I’m too happy to be upset.”

 

He looked up over his shoulder at that, seeming to realize Yakov and the cameras are all glaring at him.

 

“I skated something I can say I loved the best, Yuuri,” Victor murmured quietly, words he knew were only for him. “And so did you. I’m so _so_ proud.”

 

Before Yuuri could even reply, Victor had gotten to his feet and yanked Yuuri up to join him. The press and cameras swooped down like vultures for the kill, and Yuuri found he couldn’t even feel the slightest bit nervous.

 

He was floating on air, his heart felt so light and bursting with joy.

 

“Victor,” a reporter began, their microphone quickly shoved towards them, “you’ve finally lost your world title after five consecutive years, how does that feel?”

 

Victor smiled, bright and wide and genuine. “I couldn’t be happier. As coach and fiance, of course. But even as a competitor, I came and gave my best and I’m very pleased with my scores.”

 

“Yuuri, you’ve broken multiple records tonight and taken home gold, what’s going through your head right now?”

 

Yuuri smiled, warm and bright and relaxed. He laughed, looking over his shoulder at Victor as he replied. “I guess, it’s mostly feeling like dreams can come true if you fight hard enough for them. I consider myself very lucky to be coached by Victor because he’s supported my dream and had faith in me. I couldn’t have done this alone and I’m grateful to everyone who’s helped me get here.”

 

More press members pushed over, mostly asking variations of what’s already been asked. Yuuri just focused on the warmth of Victor’s hand on his back, grounding him even though he felt like he had to be dreaming this.

 

As they prepared for the medal ceremony, Yakov walked over to where they were waiting. He offered a hand towards Yuuri and after a surprised glance at Victor, Yuuri took it.

 

“You did good tonight, Katsuki.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied, heart set ablaze with warmth. He knew how hard it was to get a compliment like this out of Yakov.

 

Victor faked a pout, “Aww, what about me?”

 

Yakov huffed, turning to go. “You’re still lagging on your flip because you insist on having it so late. You aren’t Katsuki and you do not have his stamina. If you want that +3 GOE you’re going to have to work harder on it.”

 

Yuuri could tell he’d already begun to tune Yakov out and stifled a laugh.

 

But Yakov paused, finally, holding out a hand to Victor.

 

“Also,” he waited until Victor took the hand, “Congrats on breaking your personal bests and coaching the new world record holder to a gold. You did good, Vitya.”

 

Victor wrapped Yakov in a bone crushing hug, and he awkwardly patted his back. Yuuri and Yakov shared a look and there was a silent moment of understanding that passed between them.

 

They both knew, Victor had never been happier to win silver.

 

* * *

 

It’s not real and tangible and fully sunk in until the weight of the medal is settled around his neck.

 

Maybe it was because only then did he truly believe it to be true. Victor on a podium step lower, the Japanese national anthem playing, and it just hit him suddenly, _impossibly_.

 

Yuuri Katsuki met Victor Nikiforov on the same ice, competed against him at his best, and still miraculously won.

 

It was literally, a dream come true.

 

The anthem finished, Yuuri held up his flowers and medal, waving out at the crowd. He could see Minako and Mari’s banner and lingered just a moment longer in that direction.

 

“Yuuri, may I?” Victor’s voice was so soft, the roar of the crowd almost drowned it out.

 

Yuuri held a hand down, assuming Victor meant to step up on the top podium with him for the final photos.

 

Instead, he bowed, his lips pressed to the ring on Yuuri’s hand. There was such reverence in his movement, such adoration and love, that Yuuri almost felt overwhelmed with it.

 

“The best gold medal I’ve ever won,” he murmured.

 

And it’s too much for Yuuri to take, his desire to return Victor’s affection overruling all logical thought. He yanked him up onto the top step, his arms thrown around Victor’s neck as he poured all his emotions into a kiss. Then they’re laughing and smiling and Yuuri didn’t think he could ever be happier than he was in that moment.

 

This was far better than any dream he’d ever had; and perhaps, that was why Yuuri found he had no choice but to accept that it was happening, _really_ truly happening.

 

There was a gold medal around his neck, a silver medal around Victor’s, and a matching pair of golden bands around both of their fingers. He hadn’t just accomplished his dream, he’d _surpassed_ it.

 

“Victor?”

 

They posed for another photo, then Victor turned his full attention to Yuuri.

 

And knowing with Victor beside him, no dream could be impossible anymore, Yuuri held the gold medal up, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

 

“One of six. I’ll be back for five more, okay?”

 

Victor beamed.

 

“I’d expect no less of you, Yuuri.”


End file.
